Fortune Favours the Brave
by Nephthys Moon
Summary: What does it mean to be a Gryffindor? Ginny knows, and she has to prove it to herself yet again, as her life draws to a close


My wand is pointed at him. Any moment, I'll utter the curse that will end this war. How did it come to this?

When I was at Hogwarts, life wasn't easy — it never is. Those who expect it to be are misguided and delusional. My first year, I faced the most evil wizard of the age, Lord Voldemort, in his teenage form. I battled a piece of his soul to save my own. In the end, it wasn't enough. I had to rely on someone else to save me. And he did.

I was only in my third year, just two years after that incident, when Voldemort returned. One by one, my brothers fell fighting him. My oldest brother, Bill, was murdered on his wedding night, defending his bride from an evil he couldn't see. Bellatrix Lestrange came at them in their room, hidden under an Invisibility Cloak, desperate to regain the favour of her master. She killed him without a second glance and attempted to abduct my sister-in-law. She should have known; you never come between the French and their love. Fleur grabbed a jagged shard from the broken mirror and plunged it into the woman's throat. She watched her die coldly. Voldemort caught Fleur three weeks later. He tortured her, raped her, for three months before finishing her off with a Killing Curse when she was broken and battered. She never once lost her regal bearing. He didn't break her. He couldn't.

My twin brothers, Fred and George, were next. A coward killed them from behind one night in their store. He snuck up behind them and whispered the fatal curse. Their bodies were found in a crude sexual position the next morning by the girl who worked in the shop with them. Zacharias Smith confessed to the murders when he was captured two years later. He'd turned to the side of the Death Eaters as soon as he left Hogwarts. I watched the Dementors administer their Kiss and revelled in it.

Percy died in an explosion when Voldemort took control of the Ministry of Magic itself. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had been unable to find the final Horcrux, and Voldemort was still in power. He'd ransacked the Ministry, looking for clues of the identities of double agents, torturing and killing those in his path. The Department of Mysteries had been violated, centuries of secrets torn from its womb. He'd used the Death Chamber as an execution room. A rebellion had formed, deep in the countryside, of witches and wizards opposed to him and his tyrannical rule. The Order of the Phoenix had risen, once again, from the ashes of its death, the death of its leader, and fought back.

An epic battle had been won, by the last coalition of wizards and witches banded together to overturn him. It had been fought on the very heart of the community: Hogwarts. In the shadow of the castle, my brother Charlie, my mother and father lost their lives. My brother, my wonderful, outgoing, adventurous brother, stepped in front of a curse meant for me. He ultimately gave me the protection I needed to help my friends. The final Horcrux found and destroyed, Harry defeated Voldemort on the steps of the castle and our world was free again.

But wait, I just said, didn't I, that my wand is pointed in his face? That I am at war?

There is the tragedy. I am now an old woman. The man I'm facing now is not Voldemort, who was, indeed, destroyed on that fateful night so long ago. No, in the wake of his defeat, rumours began. A new force rising, slipping through the cracks of society, darting through the shadows. The Ministry was rebuilt, the school repaired, and life began to return to normality for our world. Aurors were sent out. My brother was one of them. He investigated the rumours. I sat in the corner of my family home with his wife, waiting for news. A Ministry official called upon his, informing us that the last of the Weasleys, save myself, had been murdered. There were no witnesses. The Shadows had taken him. For that is what we called the new, faceless evil. The Shadows.

They were more subtle than the Death Eaters. Their goals were cloaked, their faces hidden. The Shadows were indistinct. It seemed their only purpose was to kill, senselessly, randomly, and heartlessly. The Shadows moved. They knew when the Ministry was looking for them. Each person assigned to discover them was found, in the same place, with a faint film of black soot on them. It became the trademark of the Shadows.

That was long ago. His wife fell prey to the Shadows. She had a suspect, an idea about them. She went to the man she thought was leader, the man I face today. Her body was found, covered in soot, in the same place as the others — naked, spread-eagled across the top of the white tomb of Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, a man killed by one he trusted above all others.

What of me? Why did I not seek the leader of the Shadows? Why did I not die as those around me, searching to eradicate evil? I led a quiet life. I kept to my books and my husband. The battle with Voldemort had scarred him, and he was unable to leave his chair. I levitated him to his bed each night. That was why I could not chase Shadows; I had to take care of him.

Which is why I am here now, with my wand pointed in the face of the man who stands across from me.

He is the Shadow Master, the Leader of the Shadows. He killed my love; he destroyed my beloved husband. He consumed him. I hunted him down, tracked him to this place. Here I stand, pointing my wand in the face of the killer, ready to mutter the fatal curse, and destroy the most evil wizard to have ever lived: Harry James Potter, my beloved husband.

Now, I call upon all of my courage, and whisper the words, "Avada Kedavra." He falls, his beautiful face frozen for eternity in a malicious smile. It is the bravest thing I've ever done in my life.


End file.
